


Kill To Love

by xolainex



Category: Kill To Love - xolainex
Genre: Blood and Violence, Death, Disturbing Themes, Drugs, F/M, French Mafia, Human Trafficking, Love/Hate, Multi, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29696799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xolainex/pseuds/xolainex
Summary: Haven Beausoleil didn't want to go out to celebrate her friends birthday at the club. She wanted to stay home, finish her chemistry notes, binge watch Vampire Diaries and eat pizza.She didn't want her friends to ditch her at the club, she didn't want to wear that slutty blue dress that drew everyone's eyes to her body.She didn't want to walk down the low lit streets at night, carrying her shimmering black stilettos.She didn't want to be kidnapped and sold into the mafia.But life doesn't always go to plan, does it?
Relationships: Haven/Gabriel, Haven/Lance, Jean/Zahiva





	1. Fuck the Mafia

Do you know what’s worse than death? It’s dying and not being able to stop it, not being able to change the outcome. It’s like trying to claw your way out of the water, trying to fight drowning, but your head never reaches the surface. Death can happen a lot of ways, but the most common is unexpectedly. 

I really gotta say, I never would’ve thought I would end up in a situation where I was being held captive by the mafia. I hate them all, I just wanted to enjoy a night out with my friends and now I’m trapped in some god forsaken basement in “who-knows-where.” How about I get you up to date on how the hell I got here.

Well, it was my friend’s 21st birthday, and I was automatically obligated to come because of the little group of friends I associated myself with when I first started college. I met Bianca in that group and she introduced me to Salem and Rylee, the quote on quote “drama queens” of the campus. 

They were the definition of “energized crack monkeys.” Yeah sure, sounds fun and all, but the shit they were into blew my mind. They pegged a freshman as initiation for him to join their clique. Poor kid. He was their age now, and they had been friends ever since, I still questioned why he ever agreed to it. I think his name was Nate? I don’t remember, not sure why it’s important now. 

Salem and Bianca had locked me in a bathroom with the whorish short midnight blue dress I’m now wearing, and said that if I wasn’t wearing it within the next ten minutes, then they would force it on me before caking me up with makeup. Although, I do give them creds for that since they made me feel like a bad bitch. I was good at makeup too, but they insisted they did mine for the club. 

My caramel brown hair had fallen into loose curls below my shoulder blades, and my eyeliner was the definition of sharp, the wings could slice through paper. The nude eyeshadow look never clashed with the deep mauve matte lip gloss I wore. I really felt beautiful for the first time in weeks.

“Haven, hurry up! We’ll be late for Rylee!” Bianca snapped through the door as I grabbed the stilettos they wanted me to wear. Fast-forward 35 minutes and we were parked in the lot of one of the most notorious nightclubs in Texas. Yes, Texas. Yee yee, motherfuckers. 

And now Salem, Bianca, and Rylee are probably losing their minds because I’m missing. Not my fault they forced me into this slutty blue dress and stilettos for the party, I can’t even walk in those deathtraps. Bianca was was supposed to be our DD and she was the first one to get shitfaced, so fuck you Bianca. Salem bailed on us halfway through the party because her boyfriend, Tanner, got sick. Rylee had hooked up with two dudes before midnight. Fucking slut. I really didn’t care what they did either way, they dragged me along to the club to celebrate Rylee’s 21st birthday. I was the youngest of the group, being only 19. 

I gave up on enjoying the club, so I left, heading out to catch a cab to go back to my dorm. Strike one, folks. Strike two was noticing I was being followed and bolting away. And finally, strike three… getting cornered between a dead end and 6 men with guns. 

“Look at me, pute.” A man snarled, the same man who had ripped me away from the life that I knew. (Whore) 

He didn’t need to know I spoke French either, those high school and college classes are gonna save my ass. French wasn’t the only language I knew. I didn’t look up at him, he didn’t need the satisfaction of my compliance. His rough calloused hand collided with my face as he slapped me, his ring leaving a painful sting on my cheekbone. Guess that’s what I get for not listening. My soft green eyes met the man's aggravated amber eyes.

Fuck you, pendejo. (Dumbass)

“Do you speak French?” The man asked, and I realized his voice was rather gruff. 

I didn’t reply. 

“Listen up, chienne, you better start listening. Your new boss will kill you if you don’t start listening now. Auctions are coming up soon so you need to get ready.” (Bitch)

Auctions? What auctions? 

“What are you talking about?” I asked him. “What’s your name? Where am I?”

He groaned out in annoyance as he placed a forceful grip around my bicep and yanked me up from the floor. “You ask too many questions.” 

“You don’t answer enough.” I replied, feeling unusually bold for the situation I was in. He shot a vicious death glare at me as a warning. Of course I was scared too, he was 6’4 and was muscle and brawn, he could easily crush my bones. 

He led me into another room, where a bathroom was, and 3 other women awaited. They all seemed fairly young, and looked well taken care of. 

“Nettoie la nouvelle pute, elle va bien tôt aux enchères.” The amber eyed man ordered them. (Clean up the new whore, she's going to the auctions soon.) 

They nodded, swiftly taking me away from the big hunk of daddy that had kidnapped me.  
His gaze turned to mine, studying me for a moment before speaking. “What’s your name and age? Don’t bother lying either, you’ll get figured out eventually and punishments are…. Much more severe.” 

Lie to him. I thought to myself instantly. I studied his figure as I came up with a fake last name, and realized he was incredibly attractive. Caramel tan skin, with loosely curled black hair, and a scar running over the bridge of his nose. His eyes were like amber flames, burning brighter than any star could. His lips were full, and lush, and freckles were lightly spotted over his cheekbones.

“Haven Williams.” I lied. I was French. My last name was Beausoleil. “I’m 19.”  
He looked at me for a second longer, before nodding at the women to start their hygiene attack on me, and left the room without another word. I could still taste the faint taste of alcohol in my mouth from the party, just a faint lingering reminder of what life was like moments before it got flipped upside down.

One of the girls, Rosie I think, kept snagging the knots in my caramel brown hair, yanking at my scalp with every tug.

“Hey, Rochelle that hurts.” I spat out irritably.

“It’s Rosie.” She replied, her brown eyes focused on my hair, tugging at it again.

No, it's a rat. Piss off you bitch.

“Well, Roxie, stop yanking my scalp off my head. It’s not good for my good looks.” I say smugly, trying to irritate her. My deep blue eyes observing Jocelyn, the girl cleaning my skin, removing dirt. 

“Rosie.”

“Fuck off. Oh, and Janet! Take it easy on waxing.” I say to a black headed girl, who’s name was actually Jasmine. Fuck them and their names. 

“It’s Jasmine, you know our names. Fucking use them, chienne stupide.” The girl who was waxing my legs snarled. (Stupid bitch)

“Watch the insults!” I sneer. 

“You’re French too?” A girl with blonde hair and gentle blue eyes asks. I didn’t know her name yet. Yeast Infection seems like a good nickname. 

“C’est mauvais que je parle Français?” I asked. (Is it bad that I speak French)

Yeast Infection nodded and approached me. “Very bad, Miss Williams. What other languages do you know?” 

I pondered the question for a moment, I was multilingual. French, Russian, Spanish, English and a bit of Japanese. The list is probably longer, my parents wanted a perfect child as it was, so they taught me as much as they could. So much for me being perfect, I was an absolute shitshow. 

“I speak Russian, Spanish, English and a bit of Japanese. Is something wrong, Yeast Infection?” I say. 

The poor blonde headed girl looked bewildered and surprised. “M-My name is Tara, actually. And If you want to live, you should tell them you’re French.”

I nodded before the door got slammed open to reveal the angry daddy material man who had kidnapped me from before. 

Hey, hunk of heaven how’s it going? No, I’d absolutely get murdered if I said that. What the fuck, Haven.

“Time’s up. She looks fine. Get that bitch into an outfit and hurry. Boss is going to be at the auctions.”

The look of horror in Raven, Tiara, and Jackie’s eyes were priceless, I could’ve sworn I snorted back a laugh. I have a feeling that if I did, I would’ve been yeeted across the room, but instead they quickly slipped me into a burgundy dress, with an open back, and white diamond sequins on the straps and around the waistline. The dress went a little less than halfway down my thighs and was skin-tight, probably because I was gonna enter a whore house or something crazy. They handed me some black shimmering stilettos with a 5 inch heel. No, correction, murder weapons.

Oh, fuck no. 

I chucked the stilettos at Rocky’s head and tried bolting, only to get thrown into a wall and the black heels forcefully slipped onto my feet in a matter of seconds.

“Alright, she’s done.” Jodie said, looking down at me, distaste in her eyes. 

The man gripped a massive hand around my left wrist and pulled me to my feet before leading me out of the room. His grip was almost painful, I knew there’d be marks on my skin regardless. I was worried, I didn’t have the slightest clue on what was gonna happen to me.

“Uh, so who are you?” I say, my cocky attitude failing me for a moment. 

“Shut up.” He replied without looking at me as we continued walking down the maze of corridors. 

You should really come up with better insults, magic man. 

“Please. I don’t know what’s happening or if I’m ever gonna see anyone here again. Plus you haven’t hurt me like those other guys.” I say, proving a point. I didn’t want to sound or seem desperate, but I didn’t want to leave after meeting a tiny bit of kindness in this dark foreign world.

“Kid, you’re getting sold at an auction, you’re pretty. Best thing to do is to look hot and seem stupid, otherwise you might die. I’m sorry for kidnapping you, but that’s just how it is. It’s your life on the line or mine, and I’d like to live. I hope you get sold to one of the better bastards here, so you have a better chance of surviving.” He sighed as he stopped to look at my 5’7 small figure. 

My smile was gone, and any spark of determination in my eyes had been burnt out. “Why me?” 

“You were our only option. The only girl walking alone on the street. The only girl we thought was attractive enough to be put up in the auction. We took a chance, abducting your ass, so do me a favor and don’t get killed, chienne.” He said, he looked… guilty. (Bitch)

He turned back and continued walking, his hand still fastened around my wrist. “We’re about to get to the auction room, any last questions?” 

“What’s your name?” 

A very faint smile appeared on his lush lips, before it disappeared once more and his face returned back to it’s cold look. “Lance.”


	2. The Auctions

Lance opened the door and I peeked around his muscular frame to see many other women there; all caked up and pretty just like I was. This really was an auction. Lance’s grip loosened ever so slightly, and pulled me closer to him as we walked through the doors, almost as if he was wanting to keep me safe. I doubted the idea though. Mr. Daddy Issues here would never see me again anyway, and I could tell it wasn’t his first time doing this.

Many men in suits were seated around the room, and the final bidding number on the big screen televisions in the center of the room increased by the second. Next to the bidding prices, was a picture and brief description of who they were going to buy. 

“Annalise Ortega,18! Sold for $230,500 to Mr. Veracruz.” an announcer called out. 

I swallowed my fear, as Lance led me up to the podium where I’d await my inevitable future. Right before I went up there on my own, he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Don’t bolt, they’ll kill you without a second thought. Just stand there, look pretty, and don’t ask questions. Nice knowing you, kid.”

I nodded faintly, before he removed his grip from my wrist, and I walked up the small set of steps that led to the illuminated podium. I quietly walked past the other women, and they all seemed to be about my age too. I found a spot in between two women, one was about 5’9 with ink black hair and brown eyes, while the other was a blonde with green eyes who stood at around 5’4. Ink Hair’s dress was a deep green, and Blondie’s was a shimmering silver. 

“What’s your name?” I whispered to Ink Hair, immediately discarding Lance’s request.

“Veya… yours?” She whispered quietly in response, not taking her eyes off of the men who were ogling her.

“Haven.” I muttered back. 

“Veya Cantrell, 20! Sold for $374,750 to Mr. Lovechka!” The minute her name was called out, her eyes widened in horror. She let out a faint sigh, before glancing at me while I delicately fiddled with my fingers. I was trying to calm my nerves, and I didn’t even realize how nervous I was until now. 

“Hey, slut. They buy you, you go to them!” A man with slicked back blonde hair and brown eyes spat at Veya, he stood at around 6’2.

Veya nodded faintly before mumbling a “sorry” to them and walking in their direction. Once she arrived at the Mafia that had purchased her, they slammed her into the wall and beat the shit out of her for not coming when she was purchased. My bottom lip quivered as I watched in horror as her pained cries were drowned out by the sound of more women getting purchased and the sound of shouting men.

She didn’t do anything wrong and they’re hurting her. 

I looked around the room quickly and noticed Lance in the back corner, smoking a cigarette to pass the time. His eyes seemed disinterested until another man approached him, and Lance spoke softly and showed extreme signs of respect.

Oh, okay, so there are two daddies?

I pushed the thought out of my head as my name was called.

“Haven Williams, 19. Sold for $650,000 to Mr. Denali.” The announcer called out. My eyes widened in surprise, nobody had even gone over $500K and someone had just spent half a million to purchase me. Lance’s eyes were wide with shock as he stared at me. 

I looked around to find whoever had purchased me in order to avoid meeting the same fate as Veya. Brutally beaten and ushered away. I carefully stepped down the stairs of the podium where Lance now approached me, avoiding twisting my ankles in these deathly stilettos. He stood in front of me and he seemed concerned and irritated at the same time. Men really are fucking delusional. 

“Come with me.” Lance stated simply. I gave a faint nod before following him, I obliged because I didn’t want to die, that seemed simple enough. 

We left the auction room and Lance led me through a different part of this massive building. He navigated his way through the maze like corridors and I was just barely keeping up. My feet ached from wearing heels for so long, and the excessive walking made me more tired than before. Let me just say, I’ve never been a fan of exercise. 

“Hurry up.” Lance hissed out, he seemed angry for some reason.

“I’m trying, buddy. What’s got your panties in a twist?” I replied thoughtlessly. 

Lance quickly spun around and shoved me against the wall, his face inches from mine. “Watch yourself, pute. You have no right to open your goddamn mouth, especially not here. My issue is that I thought I would never have to deal with your snarky ass again, but instead Boss bought you for over half a million dollars. Best thing for you to do is shut the fuck up and be thankful for what you’re given.” he snarled furiously. (Whore)

I opened my mouth to say something before shutting it again, knowing what was best. But I was born “that bitch” and I’ll die “that bitch.”

“Not my fault you brought me here, asshat. Like, seriously how can you blame me for anything when I got kidnapped by y-” I started out but was quickly cut off by a punch to the face. 

I winced as blood spurted from my nose, black spots were in my vision, and I looked at Lance in shock. He had his gun out and raised it to my head, there wasn’t a safety lock anywhere on the gun and the barrel was pointed at my temple. 

“Don’t ever disrespect me like that again, chatte.” He hissed bitterly. (Cunt)

My eyes feel watery, and a painful stinging sensation lingered on my left cheekbone. It was obvious he was right handed, swung with his right and pulled out the gun with his left. But I could also tell he could switch hands like it was nothing. 

Fucking whale assed bitch, that hurt!

“Lance, why’d you put your hands on my new purchase?” A rich male voice called out. Lance’s eyes widened before he straightened himself up once more, the gun still raised to my head.

“Cette salope stupide m’a insulté.” Lance replied. (The stupid bitch insulted me.)

I glanced over to see a man, who stood at around 6’3, had fair rosy skin, chocolate brown hair that was held by a loose man bun, his eyes were a greenish-hazel and he had a defined jawline that could make any girl swoon. He was muscular. Not like boxing champion muscular, but more of a you could tell he had abs and could fuck you up, but could still cuddle you. 

“Si tu recommences, je te tue, Lance. Ton boulot est de la protéger maintenant, je m’en fous si tu n’aimes pas ça non plus.” He ordered. (If you do that again, I'll kill you, Lance. Your job is to protect her now, I don't give a fuck if you don't like it either.)

“Yes sir.” Lance said, before putting the gun away and hoisting me to my feet. 

He had an iron grip on my hand once more, following the man who had given orders. We walked for about 10 more minutes before a bag was placed on my head and I couldn’t see anything. The sound of car doors opening and closing, engines rumbling and a bunch of French was the only thing telling me where I was. I had no sense of direction anymore, I couldn’t see. 

“Step up.” A voice said after I heard a car door open, I hoped it was Lance’s voice. I carefully lifted up my foot and stepped up, getting off of the ground I had been previously walking on. I felt a pair of hands on my hips and they guided me into the seat of the car, before they tied my own hands together so I couldn’t try anything ridiculous. I probably would’ve given kudos to these hot bastards. 

“Scoot over to the left, I’ll tell you when to stop.” They said, and I did as they asked. “Alright, stop.”

I felt people sit beside me and heard the car doors shut, the car was already on and I felt them leave. I was still completely in the dark, and squished between brawn and bullets.   
“So, Miss Beausoleil, why’d you lie about your last name?” A male voice asked. 

Fuck. My. Life.


	3. Gabriel Denali

“Miss Beausoleil, I don’t have a lot of patience with whore’s like you. Answer the question.” The male voice said calmly. 

How’d they figure it out?

I bit my lip a couple times, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. I didn’t have one besides the fact that I didn’t want to be murdered. I exhaled quietly.

“I didn’t want to die, I got kidnapped and my life ruined. I don’t know where I’m at or what you want with me so I thought lying was smart.” I deadpanned.

There was a pause of silence before the bag got removed from my head and I blinked, trying to adjust to the light of the car I was in. Around me were 5 men. One being Lance, and the hot guy with the man bun from before. They were all armed and Mister Manbun had rings on his fingers. 

“I see. I think you failed to realize that we do background checks on every single person we buy and sell at auctions.” Man bun said. “Let me introduce myself then, Miss Beausoleil. I’m Gabriel Denali, I’m the boss of the French Mafia. Lance here, was the one who kidnapped you, but you already know that. I don’t know why I bided half a million on you, you weren’t worth anything to me. But let me make one thing clear: you will not run, you will not disrespect me or my men, you will do exactly as we tell you. Do you understand?”  
I swallowed and nodded, my fear spiked up and I was unable to speak. 

A knife was suddenly pinned to my throat and Mr. Denali’s eyes were filled with frustration. “I said, ‘Do you understand.’” He snarled.

“Y-Yes sir.” I replied, which sounded more like a terrified squeak. 

Oh, look, a mouse. 

“Good.” He replied before moving the knife away and leaning back in the seat. “Put the bag back on.”

I went back into the dark.

Do they realize how young I am?  
I wonder where we’re going?  
Ooh, who’s gay? Wait… why would I think that?  
I want to eat oreos, do we have food?  
What time is it?

I wasn’t able to see for about 4 hours, before the bag was once again removed from my face. We were pulling through a gate and heading to a massive facility, security was everywhere. I looked out the windows in awe, was this what being in the mafia was like?

The car parked into a massive garage, sports cars were lined up along the wall, blocked off by black Escalades so nobody could steal them. Which I doubt would happen in the first place since the whole area had maximum level security. 

“Welcome home, Miss Beausoleil.” Mr. Denali murmured as he got out of the car and walked inside without another word. 

I sat there in surprise for a moment before Lance told me to get out of the car and follow him. I obliged, stepping out of the car staying close to Lance since the other guards looked intimidating as fuck. Lance opened the door and let me step inside first, and I looked around the massive room, which made me uneasy due to blood stains on the floor and walls.

“What? Don’t like the blood? It adds dramatic flare.” Lance said sarcastically. 

So the bitch thinks he’s funny. Excuse me, Mister Chef Boyardee, I’m the queen of comedy. Oh, shit, that rhymes.

“Yeah, totally. Love what you did with the place.” I retorted back, earning a faint smile from Lance as he walked, signaling for me to follow him. 

As we walked down the halls of the compound, I saw more and more bodyguards each door we passed. Lance slowed his pace before turning to the left and opening a door. 

“This is where you’ll stay. Trying to escape isn’t an option. Gabriel has his eyes on you, don’t fuck things up.” Lance said as I entered the room that looked more like an apartment complex. 

The black walls had white crown molding, and there was a huge window that illuminated the room, with red “black-out” curtains that hang on either side of it. There were black couches, a small fridge, a bathroom, closet and bedroom. The black, red, and white color trend stayed the same per room.

Wow, this is some nice stuff. Thanks for the stay, Daddy Issues.

I heard the door shut and lock behind me and I sighed, immediately walking to the bathroom and checking its closet to see hygiene products, towels, body and hair wash, and more. I smirked before stepping into the shower, that lingered behind the glass wall, and turned on the shower. Some curtain that was. 

I stepped out, grabbed the washes, and began to undo the buckle on the shimmering black stilettos my sore feet needed to get out of. I was finally able to take them off before carefully undoing the zipper down the back of the dress, and slipping it off. I glanced at myself in the partially steamed up mirror before walking into the shower, and feeling the hot water run down my skin and hair. 

“This feels so good..” I mumbled to myself before grabbing the shampoo and lathering it through my hair. The texture of the suds felt good on my fingers as I massaged my scalp. I was in desperate need for some TLC but I doubted that there’d be more than this. I rinsed out the shampoo before adding the conditioner and rinsing that out too.   
I heard a sudden knock on the door and it made me jump, when the door opened seconds later.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” I screeched at whoever entered. ”I’ll stab you with the stiletto!”

“Chill out, Tiger. It’s just me.” A familiar voice called out. “And that gives me more of a reason to take them from you.”

Oh, Lance.

I glared at him before putting on body wash, while he took the heels and dress out of the bathroom and left without another word. He didn’t stare at me or try to rape me and I was baffled. But he took the stiletto’s and now I needed a new weapon for self defense. Fucking asshole.

A hot asshole. I’m kinda hungry, maybe Lan- NO! BAD HAVEN, STOP. 

I think I’m a funny little shit. Anything could set me off. I was always having back aches when I was younger, since I was the only one who carried a sense of humor.

“LANCE, WAIT!” I suddenly called out, realizing I didn’t know when and where I’d get food. 

The bathroom door creaked open a bit, but Lance didn’t step in, his eyes didn’t stare into the reflection of the mirror that showed me in the shower. His eyes were down, to the floor, and for the first time I thought that maybe Lance wasn’t so bad. His punches still hurt like a bitch, regardless.

“What is it?” He asked. 

“Uh, when and where am I gonna eat?” I asked sheepishly as I rinsed the body wash from my skin. The white soapy suds sank through the drain along with the hot water. 

I heard a heavy laugh through the door, Lance must’ve found me absolutely hilarious. Well, excuse me, Mister “I-Like-Stealing-New-Girl’s-Stilettos,” I didn’t know you could laugh. His laugh was genuine, and unforced, but was rich like honey, and could put a smile on your face in a matter of seconds. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake, can I go one day without wanting to screw someone? Clearly not.

“Stop overthinking things, con.” He stated simply. “You’ll get fed soon enough. Just worry about adjusting to your new life.” (Asshole)

“What does con mean?” I asked, trying to sound like I didn’t understand. 

“Quit playing stupid, it’s obvious you’re French. You look French, have a faint accent and have a French last name.” Lance muttered, sounding annoyed. “Just enjoy your shower.”  
And just like that, Lance had left once again, and I continued to soak into the relaxing shower, soothing my tired body. All the insults were kinda rude, sure, but I knew Lance meant well, even if he was in the French Mafia.

I shut the shower water off, and walked out, opening the closet. I picked a black towel and wrapped it around my body, before I walked out of the bathroom and headed to my new bedroom. 

I shut the door to my bedroom and locked it, before heading into the walk in closet with clothes already provided. I slipped on some underwear before putting on sweatpants and a tank top. No bras because free the titty right? 

There was a faint knock on the front door of the complex I was staying in. I once again hoped it was Lance. I walked out of my bedroom, down the hall to the door before opening it. 

That’s not Lance. 

“Hello, Haven.” Gabriel said with a faint smirk on his face.


End file.
